


Jacket

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Free!
Genre: Clothing Kink, Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 11:03:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1263961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Haru doesn’t realize that Rin has left his jacket for nearly an hour after the other boy has left." Rin forgets his jacket at Haru's place. Haru fails to restrain himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jacket

**Author's Note:**

> Written in direct expansion of this art: http://sexuallyfrustratedshark.tumblr.com/post/78383217130/rin-forgets-his-jacket-at-harus-and-erm

Haru doesn’t realize that Rin has left his jacket for nearly an hour after the other boy has left. He has made himself dinner, eaten and cleaned up, and is in the process of stripping down for a bath when he tosses his shirt and it lands atop the black jacket flung over the back of a chair. It brings him up short, though he’s not quite sure  _why_ . He just goes still for a moment, arm still extended as it was when he threw the t-shirt aside and eyes locked on the dark material. It takes him a minute before he can turn away, and he tugs off his pants and leaves them on the floor, retreating to the bath without looking back.

It should make no difference. Haru tells himself this over and over as the water laps against his skin, as he sinks under the surface and blinks up through the liquid at a world gone soft with interference. It makes no difference at all. It’s just a jacket. Mako’s left jackets behind before. Nagisa habitually loses bags, shirts, shoes wherever he goes, and Rei is proving to be just as forgetful in his own way as the blond. Haru’ll just get out of the bath and text Rin to tell him he forgot his jacket and give it back to him whenever they see each other again. It’s perfectly ordinary, nothing else to it.

He comes up short when he steps back into the bedroom. Even with his t-shirt tossed half-over it, Rin’s jacket feels like it’s dominating the room as thoroughly as Haru’s cycling thoughts. Haru pauses in the doorway --  _perfectly ordinary, it’s normal, don’t be weird_ , his thoughts say -- and then he thinks of Rin’s face, just a flicker of sharp teeth and teasing eyes, and the blood bath-warm under his skin floods down to his cock. He flinches in the first moment of capitulation, but he’s already sliding his door shut -- not that there’s anyone to see him anyway -- and dropping his towel to lie damp and forgotten on the floor.

It smells like Rin. That’s the first problem. Haru’s stared at the jacket tight over Rin’s shoulders until he knows the pattern and the seams of it without even looking, but it smells like chlorine and Rin’s hair. Haru didn’t even know he  _knew_  what Rin’s hair smelled like, but when he inhales his blood lights up with recognition so ingrained he barely has a chance to identify it before it’s flooding pleasure into his system.

It’s too big on his shoulders. The same sleeves that pull tight across Rin’s arms are loose on Haru’s, further evidence of the redhead’s training efforts and Haru’s lack thereof. It’s obviously not Haru’s, visibly someone else’s, and when he pulls the front closed he feels as if he’s trying on Rin’s skin, climbing inside the other boy’s body and stretching out into all the places they’re different.

He’s still pulling the jacket tight when he sits down on the bed, still inhaling hard against the collar when he wraps his fingers around his length. This is exactly what he wanted to avoid, exactly what he  _wasn’t_  going to do, and if anyone catches him or Rin ever finds out he has no kind of explanation prepared. But he won’t get caught, and Rin won’t find out, his adrenaline assures him, and as long as he feeds the burning  _need_  in his veins the future doesn’t seem to matter very much right now. Even thinking about Rin’s face if he knew, thinking about how he’s going to face the other boy with this moment in his memory, just makes his breath come faster and the adrenaline in his veins pump harder. Rin’s  _mouth_ , smiling or grimacing or shouting or grinning, it doesn’t matter; those teeth and those lips and that tongue have been underlying Haru’s fantasies for years, and he knows it, for all that he hasn’t let the knowledge form into recognition before. He can remember the way Rin’s breath feels on his skin, the heat of the other boy’s arm thrown carelessly across his shoulders, and when he exhales hard his mouth is forming the shape of the other boy’s name without his intention. His mind is throwing up unrelated memories, a trickle of water along Rin’s shoulders, the flutter of eyelashes over scarlet eyes, the twist of a smirk at the corner of lips, and tangling them together with unacknowledged fantasies -- Rin panting Haru’s name, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open in a moan, long fingers working almost-too-fast over Haru’s length, the slide of lips and tongues together and the feel of skin on skin. His thoughts are coming too fast to call back now, and every sucking inhale brings another wave of Rin with it until Haru can imagine the redhead is there if he keeps his eyes shut. Rin clutching at his arms, begging Haru to fuck him harder, faster, deeper. Rin’s mouth sliding down over Haru’s cock, looking up at the other boy past the fall of his red hair, and murmuring Haru’s name so he can feel it all up his spine. Rin moving over him, inside him, holding himself up with one arm so he can jerk Haru off with the other, grinning and panting and dripping sweat down onto Haru’s skin, the two of them moving together in a rippling wave so Haru can’t tell where he ends and Rin begins, their names pooling together on the other’s tongue until…

Haru groans Rin’s name as he comes all across his stomach, hand jerking over himself as he pants into the shoulder of the jacket. He doesn’t realize he’s biting the fabric until the first wave of pleasure has passed, bringing self-conscious guilt in its wake.

 _Fuck._ When he looks down, he’s come on himself and not the fabric, which is a small blessing. He sheds the clothing as quickly as he can, though the vivid fantasies now clear in his head indicate that he’s not going to be able to shed his new epiphany regarding his feelings for his friend as quickly, and he leaves it on the bed instead of over the chair while carefully not thinking about it.

He puts on pajama pants before fishing his phone out of the pocket of his pants, and then stands staring at the screen for several minutes before he can pull up the text message screen. The tiny pixelated image of Rin makes him flush hot with a combination of guilty awareness and newfound desire, and he opens up a message quick before he can think about it any longer.

 _Left your jacket here_. He sends the message fast before he can work himself into a panic over the subtle implications in his use of words, and he’s barely tossed the phone onto the bed and turned away before it buzzes with a response and he has to go scrambling to read it in an adrenaline-filled panic.

 _Keep it safe for me_ , is all it says, but Haru smiles before he catches himself, and it takes another hour before he can calm down enough to fall asleep.

When he wakes up the next morning, he’s curled around the forgotten jacket.


End file.
